


holding back the tide

by shirogiku



Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: 5x03, Episode Tag, M/M, Season/Series 05, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogiku/pseuds/shirogiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dominic Rook and Hal's many messes (5x03 tag).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaitanah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaitanah/gifts).
  * Inspired by [if you won’t save me, please don’t waste my time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/690378) by [Shaitanah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaitanah/pseuds/Shaitanah). 



> Disclaimer: _Being Human_ belongs to Toby Whithouse and the BBC. 
> 
> A reference to Shaitanah's _if you won't save me, please don't waste my time_ bc I couldn't help myself.

***

 

“The time limit?” Rook inquires briskly, taking out his stopwatch.

 

Hal tells him the exact amount and Rook almost smiles in acknowledgement. He appreciates preciseness in a man.

 

There is a certain soothing quality to any steady, rhythmic sound – but only after it’s been tamed. Rook is wary of ticking bombs and he’s standing dangerously close to one. Has been dangerously close to becoming one.

 

Heartbeats are irregular.

 

Rook could list all the confirmed and unconfirmed spots where Types 2 usually bury the bodies off the top of his head. They haven’t got the time to drive there.

 

They don’t bury it in the garden either, even though Hal seems poised to wield a shovel, almost itching for it. Hal’s hands aren’t shaking now and his jaw is set in grim determination. Rook can’t help but wonder about the flask. It shouldn’t even be a question: no Type 2 would ever refuse the call - such is their nature.

 

There is no blood and the room doesn’t smell of death - the most elaborate of all illusions.

 

Rook puts the body into a lightweight white bag and zips it up. He will have it cremated. Hal takes the lamp and wipes it meticulously before returning it to its place.

 

“Could you please assist me with this?” Rook gestures at the body. Hal walks closer, not looking at him, and lifts the legs.

 

They have propped the door open in advance and the transition to the boot of Rook’s car takes place without a hitch. They make a good team.

 

Rook thinks back to the offer he has made to Hal and then has been denied the authority to make.

 

Hal lingers by the car.

 

“That will be all, then.” Rook schools his features into a congenial smile. “Please do not hesitate to contact me, should you-”

 

Hal cuts him off abruptly, “Do you want a drink?”

 

Rook blinks, thrown off balance. “Excuse me?” He takes an instinctive step back.

 

Hal amends, “A drink. We have a... modest bar and I’m offering you a drink from it.” He glances at Rook’s wrist watch. “There is time for a drink.”

 

It must be some kind of trick. Perhaps, that drink will be poisoned or drugged. However, that isn’t how Types 2 operate.

 

Rook finds himself saying, hands in pockets, “Thank you for the offer.”

 

Rook follows Hal back into the former B&B and accepts a shot of whiskey. Hal drinks first, without saying anything.

 

Rook lets the whiskey burn its way down his throat and asks carefully, “Is there a Type 1 currently residing in this house?”

 

Hal’s eyes narrow. “What makes you think that?”

 

“I gather she’s not present at the moment, so I shall be blunt.” Rook leans forward. “I need your friend to understand that I was merely doing my job, while what _she_ did was completely unacceptable, not to mention childish.”

 

Rook tries not to let the extent of his exasperation show. God, he still doesn’t know what was worse, the security breach or the personal mortification!

 

Hal’s mouth twitches, as if from a suppressed smile. “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Rook sighs. “I’m merely asking you pass on the message, nothing more.”

 

He should be grateful _she_ hasn’t found out his home address. The prospect makes the hordes of flaming orcs pale in comparison. It might be prudent to move to a hotel. Not to Hal’s workplace, of course. As far as suicide methods go, Rook will always choose the gun.

 

Hal sends something sliding across the counter. The flask. “Take it back.” It sounds like an order.

 

Rook smiles pleasantly, and says in an ingratiating tone, “I do think you should keep it, Hal. After all... you never know when you might need it most.”

 

Hal stalks up to him and growls, “I said _take it._ ”

 

A cold shiver touches up Rook’s spine. He can see the darkness lurking behind Hal’s eyes, waiting to be unleashed.

 

Rook suggests calmly, “Why don’t you put it into the boot, next to the body?”

 

Hal doesn’t move an inch and Rook feels Hal’s gaze map out his blood vessels, study them like a Tube map, even through the shelter of his clothes. The doors are about to close, _Mind the gap._

 

Rook murmurs, “Wouldn’t this rather deny the point of your self-imposed abstinence?”

 

Hal flinches away, wide-eyed. “I wasn’t going to...” He trails off, clearly ashamed.

 

Rook has had a really bad day. That is the only explanation to the action that follows.

 

Rook leans into Hal. “The blood in the flask must have gone stale by now. It has to be warm, doesn’t it?”

 

Hal pleads, “Stop it.”

 

Rook smiles. “Do you _want_ me to stop, Hal?”

 

Hal’s lips part. He is sweating and trembling minutely.

 

It takes a special kind of man to hold back the tide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Chapter 2 for a "good Hal" ending and Chapter 3 for a "bad Hal" ending.
> 
> "bad Hal" - additional warnings for swearing & violence & stuff.


	2. good Hal

 

“The time is up,” Hal points out urgently. “You should go.”

 

Rook inclines his head. “Indeed.” He feels oddly disappointed. “Have a nice day, Hal.”

 

Rook still has some more work to do.


	3. bad Hal

 

Between one beat of Rook’s heart and the next, Hal closes the distance between them and seizes Rook by the throat. “I _have_ warned you, _Dominic_.”

 

Hal slams Rook into the nearest wall, the wind knocked out of Rook, and  struggles to loosen Rook’s tie.

 

Rook raises his hand. twists his body and brings his elbow down hard on Hal’s outstretched arm, following it up with a knee to Hal’s groin and a series of punches. Hal staggers away, hissing curses.

 

Rook pushes Hal to the floor, snarling, “On _my_ terms.” He all but shoves his exposed wrist into Hal’s open mouth. “ _You disgusting animal_.”

 

Hal grabs that arm and wrenches it, dislocating the shoulder and making Rook cry out. Hal drags Rook closer and reverses their positions, pinning Rook down and leering at him.

 

Rook tries to throw Hal off but Hal traps Rook’s legs between his and a fresh stab of pain prevents Rook from moving his arm. He’s trapped.

“You were saying?” Hal leans into Rook, his fangs bared.

 

Rook informs him, “You need at least one hand to undo my tie.”

 

Hal laughs in delight. “Tricky bastard.” He whispers into Rook’s ear, “Watch and learn.”

 

Hal tears at Rook’s shirt with his teeth, leaving the tie alone. He exposes enough skin to sink his teeth into and drinks greedily. Rook feels the blood drain out of him and then Hal’s erection press into him.

 

Hal pulls away from Rook’s neck, licking his lips. He purrs, “Do you _want_ me to stop, _Dominic_?”

 

Hal leans into Rook, their mouths a hair’s breadth apart. “Tell me the truth.”

 

“The truth is ...” Rook buckles and flails all his limbs at once, miraculously throwing Hal off and crawling away. “As I’ve already told you, you are a disgusting creature.”

 

“That’s a pity.” Hal rises to his feet with deadly grace. “Because I am the last thing you’re going to see.”

 

Rook jolts upright and runs for the door. Hal catches him and pushes him down again, Rook’s cheek pressed into the floor.

 

“Funny that we should end up here,” Hal says conversationally. He pulls away, holding Rooks head and making him turn, one flick of his wrist away from breaking Rook’s neck. “Look. That spot is where a recruit of mine... recently died. So many deaths in this house... One can’t help but wonder if it’s cursed.”

 

“You seem awfully careless with your recruits, for an Old One,” Rook observes.

 

Hal hisses, “You know nothing about the Old Ones!”

 

“What I know is that you need me alive, Hal,” Rook reasons. “To clean up your messes.”

 

Hal’s hold tightens momentarily and then he releases Rook.

 

Rook’s fingers dart to check on his neck.

 

Hal glares at him.

 

“What are you waiting for? Fuck off already!”

 

Rook does as told. He still has some more work to do and things to consider.


End file.
